The 3 Dark Secrets It Turns Out Everyone's Hiding

#1. Disgusting

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No one wants to be disgusting, but the problem with being disgusting is that disgust can be very personal and malleable. Is it disgusting to touch a deuce? Of course, but if your grandpa just exploded in the living room because someone gave the man fajitas when the spiciest thing he's allowed to eat is oatmeal, then you buckle down and carry that geriatric poop grenade to safety. You're willing to be disgusting in a situation that merits a tolerance for it. But then there are other situations when maybe it's not necessary, but you're alone anyway, so who's going to know? The Kleenex is on the other side of the room, why not pick your nose just this once? Pick it and have a flick.

GettyCaught flicking? This is your best natural defense.

I'm going to share a story with you now that I only share for educational purposes, to prove a point. I don't want you to think less of me, but I certainly understand if you do. Right now only four other people on earth know this story, and you'll have to take my word that it's true, but, in fairness, there's no upside to this being untrue, so feel free to believe it. It's worth noting that, as disgusting as it is, I have been looking for an appropriate place to share it because, if it had happened to someone else, I would have high-fived them.

Not so long ago I went out to do some quick shopping. Probably milk and some kind of snacks for later. But definitely bread. It was Country Harvest 12 Grain Bread. Of that I am very sure. I bought it on sale. I'm a smart shopper.

On my way home I cut across the yard of a school. Just as I reached the school grounds, however, something happened. Something grim. It was dark at this point, and the school is back a ways from a fairly busy street, but I had an issue and I had no time to address that issue. I had to shit. You knew I was going to say that.

There are days in your life when you can saunter from sunup to sundown with not a care in the world, you can chew on a piece of grass and lay down in a hammock and sip on some lemonade while racial-stereotype crows play bluegrass music in the trees. This was not one of those days.

I made a beeline for the fence, mostly obscured by an overgrowth of vines and bushes, just to the side of the school. It was no more than 25 yards away and I barely made it. You know what I did there in the bushes, you all know. And I used three slices of Country Harvest 12 Grain Bread to wipe my ass because I had nothing else handy. And I left it there, outside of a school. The entire loaf of bread, in fact, because there was no way a sandwich was being made from the leftovers.

Within a week, all of those bushes had been removed from the school, and of course I can't know if that was my fault, but I can assume. Some poor kid probably found that bread and figured someone had literally been eating poop sandwiches in the schoolyard. I did that to some kid. And when he told the teachers the rumor probably went around that he was the poop sandwich kid. And for the next three years he'll be known as Poop Sandwich Billy, and there's nothing I can do about that now except apologize to Poop Sandwich Billy here on Cracked. I'm sorry, Poop Sandwich Billy. I didn't mean for this to happen.

Is the point of this that you should share all this stuff openly? Of course not. None of this needs to be shared, and certainly if it ever does, there are times and places when it's appropriate. The point is that it's OK if you have these thoughts sometimes. And I know you've thought they were fucked up before, because who wouldn't? But it's cool. You don't need to be afraid that this stuff makes you abnormal, because we're all abnormal. Be happy about that and wipe your ass on some bread. So who's willing to follow me on Twitter now?